The Cowl
by Neetyneet
Summary: It's the end of the longest night in Gotham. It's also the end of one of the longest games of cat-and-mouse ever. (Batman/Catwoman)


It had all taken too long.

Now that it was time to leave, he felt he couldn't go. The rain was falling, eking into his cuts and wounds, lapping at his suit and beating down on his head and shoulders. The woes should have been washing away over the edge of the building, into the gutter. The city wasn't clean, and no amount of rain or sacrifice could accomplish that. But at least now, it could heal.

He thought about all the times his bones had been shattered and had knit back together, often at great haste, and he had been surprised at times by the things he could do even when his strength had been compromised. He had questioned himself so many times, going over and over in his head every time he eliminated a threat, every time he had a close shave or whenever someone he loved was drawn into the fray: when would it all run out?

And now it was finally happening. He'd ordered Alfred to take the first steps towards stopping what they had started mere minutes ago. All he needed to do was shed the cowl and head home.

As the rainfall quietened down to a patter he reached up and twisted the mask free. He threw it aside without a second glance and heard it clatter down on the ground somewhere. Rain misted his face as he turned towards the waiting Batwing.

He had sensed her scaling the opposite wall of the building some moments ago, but he was still surprised to see her waiting in the silhouette of the hovering vehicle.

"Leaving so soon?" she purred over the humming of the hovercraft. "I know the party's nearly over, but it's tradition for the host to stay until the very end."

Catwoman bled out of the shadows and swayed towards him as though she were walking on a wire. She was so light on her feet, and though her face was set in an expression of self-assured serenity, he could hear the edge to her voice.

"You should know that, considering the amount of parties you must have thrown."

She was stalling for time. Each footstep was carefully measured so that she seemed to be taking forever to reach him. She paced around him slowly, sizing him up.

"I'm afraid I'm on a tight schedule," he said, trying to convince his feet to take him over to the Batwing. Thanks to its painstaking design, he could leap up into the cockpit and be gone within seconds.

 _Why is he stalling?_ Selina Kyle could see he was anxious to get away. Every time she appeared to him, she could almost see the mental countdown ticking behind his black eyes. And yet their paths seemed to mysteriously cross several times a night.

She stopped in her tracks as she noticed the cowl, which she had nearly kicked across the roof of the building.

"Are you…" she wheeled around and stood in front of him. "You're leaving? You're actually going to…"

He saw the slap coming. It was weak and fast and caught the side of his face clean across the cheek. She glared at him haughtily, breathing heavily through her nose, before she realised she could do better.

He caught her wrist as her arm arched around for the second, much harder strike. She wrenched it away and he gently let go. The Batwing thrummed patiently above them.

"My work is done. There is nothing left here in this city."

"Nothing," she echoed.

"The city doesn't need me any more."

" _This city, this city_ ," she echoed, like an angry child. "Gotham can go to hell."

"It nearly did, tonight."

"Why do you love it so much?"

He'd been asked that before, and every time he had a new answer. Now he was tired of talking, and tired of giving answers.

Selina came closer. She had given up on her pacing and all of her tactics seemed to have gone out of the window, forgotten in the wake of her frustration and curiosity. "I know I can't stop you. Nothing has ever stopped you."

She placed a slender hand on his chest, gently, as if she was touching a hot surface. He took her wrist in his gloved hand again, and as she closed her eyes he knew what she was going to do even before her lips touched his. The rain fell on their faces as if it was trying to intercept their kiss, and he felt the urgency of her breathing as she pushed all of her energy into it, as if she was trying to tie him to her. He pushed aside every inch of grief and kissed her back, pressing his mouth onto hers, wrapping an arm protectively around her and covering them both with the remains of his cape as the rain began to coat them as they stood still.

She pulled away, and they rested their foreheads against each other, caught in the rhythm of their breathing.

"I can't take you with me," he began.

"I don't want you to," she cut in. "Your arrogance never ceases to amuse me. I guess that's what you get for growing up in a mansion, surrounded by luxury."

She sounded bitter. He knew all of the things she was dying to ask, dying to say, and he hoped they wouldn't come out now. He was exhausted. Everything he had seemed to have ebbed out of him slowly during the course of the night, and their kiss had taken the last of his resolve.

"I won't keep you any longer," she said, and her hand slipped away as she stepped back, leaving a strange ache that surpassed any beating he'd recently received.

"This place will miss you," she said as he turned to leave.

Bruce grappled up into the cockpit. As he settled into the pilot's seat and gripped the controls, the rain changed back to a steady downpour. He allowed himself to look down and found her still standing there when he'd expected her to have gone. She was waiting for him to disappear out of sight.

As he silently sped over the city, becoming a rain-spotted blur, Selina let the rain seep into her suit. When she could no longer see the Batwing she leaned over and picked up the cowl at her feet. She studied the marks and battle scars around the shape of the skull before looking into its eyeholes, finding them devoid of anything.

As she left for the night, she tossed it aside, where it fell off the edge of the building and slipped away into the darkness below.


End file.
